The Becoming of Smaug
by batsareamazing
Summary: A dragon is sighted around London... But does it have any connection with the odd way Sherlock has been acting?


John Watson had been sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes for a couple of months, when he first started to notice something very odd about Sherlock.

It was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was, considering that Sherlock was an extremely unusual person anyway. However, when he started disappearing from the flat for days at a time when he didn't even have any cases on, and when he began to eat his meat particularly rare, John was sure that there was something wrong.

At the same time, there had been some very strange reports circulating London. Tales of a huge monster from the sky were being told in pubs around the city, and while most people thought it was either a hoax, or they were just stories told by a bunch of drunks, it still made the front page on the newspaper.

"DRAGON SIGHTINGS AROUND CITY" the Daily Word proclaimed.

"WINGED DEMON DESCENDS ON LONDON!" the Life trumpeted.

And, most alarmingly of all, "IS THE APOCALYPSE APPROACHING?"

John, who was in the habit of reading all the daily newspapers in his quest for mysteries for Sherlock, couldn't help but notice these headline articles.

"What do you reckon this dragon stuff is about?" he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock did not respond.

"Well? There might be a case in it. Hallucinogenic drugs or something."

"Of course not," Sherlock replied. "It's just some idiots making things up."

John looked at Sherlock irritatedly. "How do you know? There could be something in it. You've taken on stranger cases."

"No I haven't," responded Sherlock. "I deal with facts, John, not fantasy. Anyway, Scotland Yard don't appear to be taking it seriously, so I don't see why I should."

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Soon, Detective Inspector Lestrade had climbed the stairs and was standing in the doorway. John looked pointedly at Sherlock, and then turned to greet him.

"How can we help you, Inspector?" he inquired.

Lestrade looked embarrassed.

"Well, actually… it's about this whole dragon business. There has to be something in it, but honestly, we can't work out what it could be. I was wondering if you might help us."

John grinned. "I was telling Sherlock he should take on the case just now," he said triumphantly, sure that the detective could not refuse now.

Sherlock glared at John.

"I told John that I wouldn't take on the case, and I'm not doing it for you. I'm going out."

And with that, he stalked off, leaving John and Lestrade exchanging puzzled glances in his wake.

"He's never been like that before, has he?" John asked, confused.

Lestrade shook his head. "He's always taken on anything. This is strange." He shrugged. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Tell me if he changes his mind."

John was roused from his contemplation. "Yeah, sure. Will do," he replied absently. He was sure that there was something wrong with Sherlock, and he was determined to find out what it was.

Over the next few days, nothing particularly exciting or unusual happened - at least, not at 221B Baker Street. Out in the city, Lestrade, along with several of his officers, was trying to find out the truth behind this dragon story. However, it wasn't easy. If the dragon _was_ real, it had covered its tracks extremely well. There was no trace of it anywhere. Just when Lestrade was about to give up, Sergeant Sally Donovan finally found a clue that made him decide not to abandon the search.

This clue was a trail of destruction that led, not as was usual to a complete dead end, but to a familiar looking coat.

Sherlock's coat.

This was most confusing. Was it a coincidence? Perhaps it wasn't Sherlock's coat at all. Or maybe he had decided to investigate the problem in the end. But either way, it seemed that it would be a very good idea to go to 221B straight away.

When Lestrade arrived, accompanied by a couple of his officers, he noticed, both to his satisfaction and his concern, that Sherlock's coat was not on the coat hook on which it was usually hung. This was definitely odd.

"I'm still not taking the case Lestrade, if that's why you've come," said Sherlock coldly as they entered the room.

"That's not why we're here," Lestrade sighed exasperatedly. "We were wondering if you could explain what your coat was doing at one of the places which the dragon had caused destruction."

Sherlock became, if possible, even more still than he had been before.

"Still looking for that dragon then?" asked John curiously.

"Yes," replied Lestrade, still watching Sherlock. "Why didn't you tell us that Sherlock had taken the case after all?"

John looked confused. "But he hasn't. Have you, Sherlock?" he asked his friend.

"Of course not. I've told you John, I deal with facts, not fantasy."

"I'm sure," said Lestrade pleasantly. "But you still haven't explained what your coat is doing there, rather than on the coat hook where it belongs."

Sherlock blushed. This was such an extraordinary occurrence in itself that everyone stared at him. This only seemed to make him even more embarrassed, and he continued to flush a darker and darker shade of red. He seemed to grow, his skin became dry and scaly, and before anyone knew what was happening, there was a dragon in the living room of 221B Baker Street.

For a moment, everyone just stared. Then, slowly, Sergeant Sally Donovan started to back away.

"Freak!" she spat, before turning and running out of the flat, followed by the other two sergeants.

Lestrade stayed a little longer, staring up at the huge dragon that had been Sherlock Holmes only seconds previously. Then, shaking his head slightly, he walked out of the door, muttering something about having too much to drink.

Only John and the dragon were left in the flat now. For a few minutes, he gazed up at the huge head of his friend. Then, he picked up his newspaper from where he had dropped it, and sat back down in his favourite chair.

"Why are you still here?" asked Sherlock, in a deep, rumbling voice.

John looked at him

"You're my best friend, Sherlock, even if you are a dragon."

Clearing his throat, he went back to his newspaper.

Sherlock tried again, sounding slightly disappointed at this anticlimactic reaction.

"Well, aren't you surprised that I turned into a dragon?"

John put down his newspaper.

"To be honest, Sherlock, everything you do has ceased to surprise me. But since you obviously want me to be more curious, why are you a dragon?"

"I don't know," admitted Sherlock. "It's been coming on for a few months now, and I transformed for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It feels different this time though, more permanent. I'll have to leave the country now. Care to join me?"

John contemplated this for a few seconds.

"I suppose so. I haven't got anything else planned. I'll pack my bags, and then we can leave, before Scotland Yard arrive to arrest you on suspicion of destroying some notable buildings. Did you really have to knock the top of Big Ben?"

"It was in my way," grumbled Sherlock. "Anyway, it's technically St Stephen's tower-"

John held up a hand. "I am really not in the mood to be lectured on historic buildings by a dragon."

Sherlock and John were not heard of again after that night. The stories of the police were laughed at, of course. Who would believe that Sherlock Holmes had turned into a dragon?

The fact remained, however, that the dragon sightings stopped immediately after the mysterious disappearance of John and Sherlock. And there was the fact that reports came from New Zealand of a dragon which sounded suspiciously like the one which had just left London, which, coincidentally, corresponded with the fact that John Watson happened to have caught a plane to New Zealand at just the same period in time…

But these were all just rumours. As were those told in the far distant future of a dragon whose name had gradually evolved to Smaug, who lived alone in a cave filled only with gold and jewels after his only friend left him after meeting a woman he fell in love with. Even further in the future, stories were told of the way the dragon was slayed, with the help of a young hobbit (a group of humans who evolved until they developed some very distinctive characteristics of their own) who bore a suspicious resemblance to a certain John Watson… But that's a very different story.


End file.
